


Salty Snacks

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [167]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:19:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(follow on from this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/979893)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salty Snacks

By now, Stiles was used to it.  The taste of salt and ash on the back of his tongue, the whiff of sulphur that not even the wolves could sense.  The way the colours lost their vibrancy, just enough to throw his sense of the world off-axis.

“Pizza run!” he declared brightly, bouncing out of his seat.  "If I’m to scheme properly, I need cheese and grease.“

It worked, the wolves all wrinkling their noses slightly at the thought of ‘grease,’ and Stiles skipped out of the loft unchallenged and alone.  His baby roared into life, and he hoped he’d been quick enough that the wolves didn’t detect any change in his scent, hear his heartbeat quicken slightly.

He used to think it was nerves.  Now he was more honest with himself.  It was excitement.  

Stiles followed his internal compass to a deserted crossroads out past the east edge of town. He slammed his jeep’s door shut and sauntered out to the exact middle of the cross.  In the distance an owl hooted.  Stiles rolled his eyes and swung his arms wide.  "Hey batter batter! Batter up!”

The shadows twisted and roiled, and Stiles watched with interest. The last contender had been little more than a tasty snack, so low on the demonic totem pole that it had almost been suicidal to try to possess Stiles.  This one looked far more substantial, if it could affect such change without a host to sustain it.

The shadows whipped into strange shapes.  Under his breath, Stiles began to hum 'Eye of the Tiger’ as he jammed his hands into his hoodie pockets.

The shadows froze, as if aware they were being mocked, and slunk back into their place.  Out of the trees came the sound of footsteps.

Stiles perked up with interest.  Only once before had a demon come to him, already in a host.  When he’d woken, the walls had been dripping with blood in a way he found soothing rather than repulsive, and he’d held onto the ability to move objects with a thought for three whole days.

It was a woman, her eyes coal black with possession.  Stiles held up his hand and waggled his fingers.  "Hi.“

She bowed, courteously, one equal to another.  She straightened, and Stiles could almost see…. _something_ …in the reflection of her blackened eyes.  "Who are you?”  Her voice was sweet, attractive, mellifluous.  Stiles grinned and chalked up a win to SAT word study with Scott.

“I’m just this guy, you know,” he shrugged.

She scowled, the shadows lengthening.  "You are mine!“

Stiles breathed deep,closed his eyes, and let go.  When he opened them again, he was slumped on the ground against the bumper of his jeep. The road before him was torn up, and the burning smell of asphalt almost overpowered the lingering odour of sulphur.  He felt almost uncomfortably full, and he popped the top button on his jeans more out of habit than anything.

At least there was no blood this time.  The wolves would have smelled that.

He bought garlic bread to go with the pizzas as a distraction anyway.  When Derek eyed him sitting there, curled up against a cushion as the others devoured the food, Stiles smiled.  "Ate one while I was there.”

It was close enough to the truth that Derek nodded, satisfied.

Stiles burped loudly and leaned his head on the arm of the sofa.  Behind his eyes, he could see flames and battles, hear the clanging of swords and the screams of the damned.

He let them lull him to sleep.


End file.
